


Grey Skies

by 27noir



Series: Mixed Magic [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Thin Veil Series - Jodi McIsaac
Genre: Angst, Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27noir/pseuds/27noir
Summary: Well,Irial thought a bit wryly,that explains the dog.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to E for the edits on these! <3
> 
> See End Notes for a note about canon.

 

 

There was a mutt down on the far end of the beach, and Irial wondered where it had come from. There wasn’t much around but the sad fishing hut Irial currently occupied, the nearest town a half hour hike across the moors. It looked a bit feral, Irial thought, watching the dog run in and out of the water and snapping at the waves.

It reminded him of something, too, that he could not place. Some memory vaulted away that made him smile.

He watched it for a time, till dusk started to gather along the skyline, then ventured out toward the shaggy beast.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he said, hands out in what he hoped was a non-aggressive gesture as the scraggly thing cowered at his approach. Heavens, it was thin. It was mostly fur and bones. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. Just thought, if you want something to eat and a warm place to sleep…”

The dog cocked its head at him and barked just once.

Irial crouched down and offered it his hand. For a moment it didn’t move, then it sniffed his fingers tentatively.

Apparently it liked what it smelt because it started licking his hand with enthusiasm.

“See now, nothing to be afraid of,” Irial said with a laugh and reached out to scratch the mutt’s head. It ducked its head a little but seemed pleased for the contact, coming close enough to sit right in front of Irial, tail wagging. It “whoofed” happily in his face and Irial laughed again, scratching around the ears.

“Come on, then,” he said, getting up. He started toward the hut just up the beach, turning back to see if the dog would follow. It did, coming up to trot alongside him. It seemed a little hesitant to go indoors, but Irial stoked up the fire and it flopped in front of it, one soggy mess, and went to sleep.

Irial made a meager dinner of the discounted loaf of bread and a can of beans that he had picked up the day before in town, warmed on the stove.

The dog ate with relish and Irial wondered when was the last time it had eaten anything.

“I’d slow down there a bit, buddy,” he warned it. “Partly because I don’t have much to go around, and partly because you’re going to get one nasty stomach ache.”

The dog just barked at the empty plate and wagged his tail again.

Irial sighed and gave him the rest of his meal. He hadn’t been that hungry anyway. Not for beans and toast, at least. He was sick of beans and toast.

 

\--

 

The dog woke him in the night, howling and half crazed.

“It’s okay! It’s okay,” he said trying to calm the thing without getting too close. Thankfully, it reacted to the sound of his voice and stopped barking, replacing it with a pitiful whine.

“It was just a dream,” he said, venturing to pet the dog’s head. “Just a bad dream. I have them too, sometimes.” He stroked the dogs ears. “It was just a dream.”

The dog stared at him in the dark, eyes grey and forlorn. Irial had the impression that the dog didn’t believe him, but it let Irial hug it all the same.

Then he crawled back into bed, patting the small empty space beside him. “Come on, then.”

The dog hesitated, then gingerly hopped up on the covers and settled down with a huff. Irial stroked its ears and hoped the owner of the small house, and specifically, the quilt the dog was now on, would forgive him for the smell of wet dog.

 

\--

 

The dog didn’t leave his side all the next day, except to lope down the beach only to come running right back. Irial was pleased for the company.

 

\-- 

 

The dog woke him again, snarling. This time, when Irial tried to calm it, it snapped at him, nearly missing his arm with its teeth.

“ _Shit,_ ” Irial said, skittering away. But the dog seemed to realize its mistake, pressing itself to the floor and whining.

Irial didn’t move, blood still running fast from the sudden adrenaline. He sat on the floor against the side of the bed watching the dog warily while his breathing returned to normal. The dog, too, stayed where it was, looking pitiful.

“Can I tell you story?” Irial said at last, wondering what kind of response he expected from the mutt. “Some time ago I was visiting the Merrow. They let me stay with them sometimes, if I do them a favor or two. Anyway, Felix was with me, which means they were being particularly gracious because those two don’t usually get on well. There was a storm coming in one night, and these two bright young things show up on the beach.” Irial gave a huff of a laugh. “God, what a night that was.” 

But he fell sedate again, thinking of the cold and the loneliness since.

“I don’t know why you remind me of that,” he said with a sigh. “Something in the eyes, I guess.”

The dog whined again, and flipped its tail. Then it shuffled forward and pushed its nose under Irial’s hand with small lick of its tongue and waited. Irial stroked its head.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said.

 

\--

 

On the third day, Irial went into town. He left the dog at the hut, where it seemed content enough to stay. Irial had a sense that it was a little depressed.

When he returned, a storm following at his heels, the dog was gone. There was, instead, a dark-haired man slumped in a chair in front of the fire.

“Oi!” Irial said rather loudly. “There’s a thing called trespassing—”

He dropped the bag of groceries he was carrying.

The man at the fire had looked up, and Irial almost didn’t believe it, because it couldn’t be, it really couldn’t be—

“Sirius?” he whispered.

“Irial…?” said the man who seemed to be a mere shadow of the Sirius Irial had remembered. He was so thin, face gaunt, hair a tangle.

_Well,_ Irial thought a bit wryly, _that explains the dog._

 

\--

 

If Irial thought it would be a heartfelt meeting, seeing Sirius again, he was sorely mistaken. Mostly on account that Sirius didn’t seem to be making any sense.

_“He’s at Hogwarts!_ ” He kept insisting, clutching Irial’s shoulders and shaking them. “He’s at Hogwarts, the rat bastard, he’s at _Hogwarts.”_

“Sirius,” Irial said sympathetically. “Who’s at Hogwarts? Remus?”

But Sirius froze. “Oh Merlin,” he whispered. “Remus.”

Then he pressed his hands to his face and didn’t move till Irial saw his shoulder begin to shake.

“Fuck,” Sirius said, though no tears came. “ _Remus_.”

Whatever it was that had caused Sirius to have arrived in such a state—to have forgotten Remus in particular Irial thought—must have been one hell of a trial. He wondered what had happened to Sirius these last eleven years, almost surprised that such a time could change a man so distinctly.

Sirius was not forthcoming with answers. All Irial’s questions were too broad, it seemed, to provoke rational information. Nothing that came from Sirius’ mouth made an ounce of sense to Irial, who was trying to pick up the pieces of a puzzle that was Sirius’ current state. _Hogwarts_ rang some bells with him, dragging up the memory of a bright young Sirius, talking animatedly about his school and friends, years ago. But _Azkaban_ , and _dementors_ and _Voldemort,_ none of it was familiar to Irial, though it all seemed to cause Sirius a great deal of anguish.

So Irial just let Sirius rave and ramble in a fever, as if he had not talked to anyone for a long time.

“I have to get to Hogwarts!” Sirius insisted, over and over. “I can end this, I just need to get to Hogwarts.”

After one such proclamation, Sirius scrambled from the hut and out onto the beach, undeterred by the storm. Irial charged after him, wrestling against his flailing limbs and the lashing rain, to get him to stop, to come back inside.

“Sirius!” he pleaded, arms thrown tight around Sirius’ middle, which was startlingly more unsubstantial then it looked, he was so thin. “You’re in no fit state to go anywhere, and neither is the weather. Just, please, come back inside.”

Sirius stopped struggling, dropping to his knees. Irial fell with him, still holding on lest Sirius tried to run again. But in the rain and wind and cold, he started crying instead, wracking sobs that shook his whole body. It didn’t last long, but they were both soaked through by the time Irial was able to lead Sirius by the hand back to the hut.

 

\-- 

 

On many occasions Irial had cursed the hut for being cold and drafty, but he took it all back once they were back under its roof and out of the rain. Irial wrapped Sirius in a blanket, who was now startlingly silent and still, and situated him in front of the fire.

_Felix,_ Irial thought desperately. _How do I help him?_

There was a bang at the door, probably just the wind throwing something against it, but Irial turned as if Felix might actually come striding through with answers. Felix was the healer, not Irial, and Irial was feeling well out of his depth here.

_Felix,_ he thought again, still watching the door with dismay. _What do I do?_

But Felix would not come walking through that door, by magic or any means, Irial knew, and he sighed. He would have to deal with this on his own.

He fixed another underwhelming dinner and set a plate in front of Sirius, who had curled into the blanket on the floor, a small shaking mound, his matted hair just visible.

“You should eat something,” Irial said, when Sirius gave no evidence of even having noticed the food. “I know it’s not much, but you should eat.”

Sirius said nothing, only stared into the fire, teeth rattling. After half an hour, Irial gave up trying to coax him to eat and instead, tried to coax him to the bed to sleep. This proved to be no more fruitful. Irial rubbed the back of his head, staring down at the huddled lump of limbs and blanket at his feet and wondered the best course of action. Sirius had not said a word, nor responded in anyway, since they had returned to the hut. His eyes watched the fire still, however, and every now and then he would let out a haggard breath.

Irial sighed. He couldn’t leave him on the floor all night. So, as cautiously as he had approached the dog on the shore only a few days prior, he put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius flinched but did not pull away.

“I’m going to help you to bed, okay,” Irial said softly. “You’ll be much warmer there.” He considered his options for a moment, then scooped up the bundle of blankets and Sirius in it, and carried him the few steps to the bed. He felt sick at how light and small Sirius was in his arms.

He tucked Sirius in, piling on as many blankets as he could against the cold, Sirius shaking still.

“Sleep,” he said, perched lightly on the edge of the bed. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He sighed again, when Sirius said nothing once more, and turned to go add more wood to the fire. But he felt a small tugging on his sweater, so he looked back.

Sirius’ hand slid back under the covers, and he whispered so quietly that Irial barely heard him.

“It’s all my fault.”

Irial thought his heart could not break any more, for all that he had witnessed that evening. But the way Sirius had said it, the hopelessness with which his frail voice had carried the words, Irial wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him and cry with him—to give into the helplessness that Irial felt himself about the situation and share Sirius’ grief and pain.

Instead he reached out and stroked Sirius’ damp and tangled hair just once.

“We’ll make it better,” he promised. “Just sleep now.”

 

\--

 

Irial slept rough, doubting any rest he might have managed. The storm had passed during the night, though it was still cold and overcast when he woke, disorientated and sore in a chair by the fire. With a start, he remembered Sirius and the previous night’s endeavors and immediately his eyes sought for Sirius in the mound of blankets on the bed.

But he was not there.

Irial’s search of the small hut was knowingly in vain, even before he found the note.

But there it was, left on the pillow and in an uneven scrawl: two words and a sign that looked much like a small paw print.

_I’m sorry._

Irial sat heavily on the bed, head collapsing into his hands, note fluttering to the floor, and an intense sense of failure crashed over him.

_Sirius,_ he thought desperately, _take care of yourself. Please. Don’t— Don’t…_

But he couldn’t finish that thought, too saddened by the possibilities.

 

\--

 

He kept an eye on the shoreline, but Sirius did not return in either form. For weeks, Irial stayed, fingers worrying away at the hems of his clothes in despair, until he was forced to accept that there was nothing he could do.

He packed his things with a terrible sense of guilt and unease. _Let him find Felix,_ Irial thought desperately. _Or Remus. By some feat of magic, let him find somewhere safe._

_Let this not be the last time I’ll ever see him._

Irial walked away from the hut, from that little bit of coast, looking back more than once, but saw nothing more than grey skies.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A note about canon:
> 
> I believe I have, to the best of my ability, stayed true to the Harry Potter canon, in so far as times and dates.
> 
> The Thin Veil, on the other hand, I royally mucked up. And while it doesn't not particularly pertain to this story, the basis of this series does not fit with the Thin Veil canon. So consider this an AU, if you like. Or a headcanon. I just hope my lack of canon compliance doesn't ruin the story for you.


End file.
